The not so immortal stuntman

As a kid I grew up watching Saturday tv shows like The A Team, and The Dukes of Hazard. My particular favourite was The fall Guy with Lee Majors. For one he had a cool truck, could handle himself in a bar brawl and did lots of stunts.

It was decided in my overactive mind back then as a child, I needed to be a stuntman. It was my destiny calling that I would jump out of moving vehicles, off buildings, out of trees and generally attempt anything that would put me at risk. I pretty much got started straight away.

Instead I ended up embarking on a journey of mental illness and alcoholism with a spattering of stuntman like victory’s and failures. Mostly just doing stupid things drunk. Problem was that when I was drunk I believed I was immortal, and when I had a paranoid schizophrenic episode as a late teenager It just reaffirmed I was immortal. And even If I wasn’t I didn’t care. I had a very up and down life.

In my life I have survived

Chronic alcoholism.
Abuse.
Mental illness.
A drunken trip through the heart of Mexico.
A drunken trip through south east Asia.
Drs prescriptions.
Broken bones.
Fights with men I clearly had no chance against.
Falling off high things drunk and breaking things.
A Scorpion sting.
Home tattooing.
A really upset gang member in New Zealand.
Home brewed sambuca.
Gallons of sugar cane spirit that apparently puts one at risk of blindness.
A year on a remote island with no alcohol, tv, phone or internet connection for most of my stay.
Psychiatrists.
Strange women.
Wandering drunk and lost at night through the project housing area of St. Louis.
Mescal.
Swimming at night naked after a shark sighting.
Beer Chang.
Snake wine.
Air Laos.
‘Dave the dirty anarchists’ brew of special brew and mushroom tea at Glastonbury festival.
A nasty stabbing incident.
Drunk skateboarding nights through the streets of Melbourne.
The sex in the city movies.

To name a few.

I never really considered my immortality until I reached my end with alcoholism and the person I had become. That led me to a much more peaceful existence. It was the only other road to take. And I am grateful that I made this far with just a few scars and bruises. Especially now I’m a parent.

Last week I was taken into hospital struggling to breath with chest pains, the second time in almost as many weeks. The X-ray shows an infection on the bottom of my left lung behind my heart. Now on a second course of antibiotics waiting for it to shift, being told to rest.

It has scared me a little, being unable to get on with my work and home life as I normally would. The realisation again that I am not immortal, that I do need to slow down occasionally, a stressful year may have caught up a little bit more than I anticipated it would. With a family now relying on me I have to take a step back now and again.

I’m not the car with no breaks anymore. And I’ve always learn the hard way.